


Flight of Fancy

by tromana



Series: 50 Starting Points [6]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Jealousy, Romance, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tromana/pseuds/tromana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Patrick Jane is prone to a case of the green-eyed monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight of Fancy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Little_Firestar84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Firestar84/gifts).



> Written for the Paint It Red 2nd Forum Anniversary Countdown. Also a belated birthday fic for Little-Firestar84.

She wafted past him like a fragile butterfly on a gentle breeze. Jane smiled serenely as his heart rose in his chest and the warmth spread from the core of his body and to all of his extremities. For half a moment, he believed there was the distinct possibility that she was going to stop by him, gently touch him one way or another and then press her soft lips against his. It was a daydream he had always loved; it made even the darkest days feel that little bit brighter. It gave him the much-needed and much-craved for hope. Hope was something he needed just to survive these days.

And he loved her. Deeply. She was his walking contradiction. Teresa Lisbon may have been tiny and delicate, with soft features and a gentle smile, but she could be as tough as nails and as strong as an ox when she wanted to be _. 'She floats like a butterfly, but stings like a bee,'_ he mused quietly to himself. And of course, he wouldn't have had her any other way.

When she didn't even spare him a second glance, it felt like somebody had dumped a bucket of cold water right over his head. Jane's heart plummeted out of his chest and down into the very pits of his stomach, only adding to his discomfort at what he was seeing. She didn't have time for him and it always irked him whenever that happened. Unconsciously, he started scratching at his hands; clearly, it made his fingers itch as well.

Warily, he watched her as she walked behind, appreciating the view of her exceptionally well-formed behind. He knew that Cho and Van Pelt were watching him in turn, but they practically expected him to ogle at the boss. And besides, what was the good in keeping things like this a secret? Most gentlemen (and some less than savory characters too) were more than happy to admit to the fact that Teresa Lisbon was an exceptionally beautiful woman. Some things just needed to be admired and she was very much one of them.

His appreciation of her form quickly dissipated when he saw who she was heading towards and exactly what she was doing to him. The admittedly charismatic, but also incredibly smug Walter Mashburn was standing in front of her, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. And really, who could blame him? That was especially the case when Lisbon placed a firm hand on his should and pressed those beautifully soft lips against his cheek. Jane was usually exceptional when it came to keeping control of his emotions. However, seeing Lisbon - _his_ Lisbon - kiss another man with such obvious affection gave him a very strong case of the green-eyed monster.

"Walter. It's good to see you again," Lisbon said, and her voice was laced with affection that Jane wished she'd direct at him far more often than she already did.

"It's been too long," he admitted and kissed her in turn. "You look even lovelier than the last time I saw you."

Jane honestly couldn’t believe the audacity of the man. Had he really come out with such awfully blatant flattery the last time he had seen the pair of them together? It was the kind of behavior that he knew Lisbon absolutely loathed, and yet, she seemed remarkably disaffected by it. Maybe it was mostly because of who was saying it. She liked and trusted Walter Mashburn. That was probably why she tolerated him saying that kind of thing to her. However, a not-so-small part of Jane was still secretly hoping that she was gritting her teeth and refusing to say anything just to be polite to the arrogant billionaire.

"Flatterer," Lisbon remarked and Jane felt relieved. She had seen straight through Mashburn's trite cliché and it was a good job too. "How was Australia?"

"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. I could have had far better company, however."

Again, Jane loathed the insinuation. Walter Mashburn had had his chance, but Lisbon had already made it clear that she didn't want any more empty glamour. If she were to have a proper relationship, then she wanted something a bit more deep and meaningful. However, he was still circling, still trying, still on the scene. And briefly, Jane found himself questioning: what if? What if a small part of her still held a candle for him? What would happen then? Would she take the risk and dive right in there? Because, Walter Mashburn still had that dangerous streak she was so obviously drawn towards. But in comparison to certain people - or rather, a _very_ specific person, namely, himself -he was still the safe option. He didn't chase down a homicidal maniac like his very life depended on it. Instead, he sought his thrills in other ways.

"That's enough," she replied, but she was smiling at the compliment. "I thought we had a lunch date planned?"

"Of course we do. Only the best for you, Teresa."

Jane rolled his eyes as they headed out of the bullpen and towards the elevator. He'd had more than enough of that view anyway. And besides, it was making him feel increasingly irritable. Perhaps he had misjudged the situation. It was obvious that Lisbon was still very fond of him - the main question was just how fond was she? He shook his head and decided to settle back down on his faithful couch. This was stressing him out; it was too much for one day. Later on, he would deal with this issue. This green-eyed monster, however, was still proving to be far more trouble than he expected. Because, even though he had the comfort of his couch and the security of the team surrounding him, he couldn't get a wink of sleep.

Damn Teresa Lisbon.

And damn Walter Mashburn even more.

xxx

He sat in bed with the light on, sulking. Jane had a book in front of him, but instead of paying any proper attention to it, he seemed to merely be reading the same sentence over and over again. Each time he heard a car roar past, he paused and craned to hear what else was going on outside. And each time, he was disappointed to hear that the vehicle was long gone.

Eventually, he heard the familiar click of a key in the door, and then it being shut quietly again. Even though he was solely focused on what was now happening in the house, he drew the book closer to his face, obscuring his vision of the bedroom door. After approximately five minutes, he heard the soft padding of footsteps coming up a staircase and then, the door creaked open. Teresa Lisbon cleared her voice and slowly, Jane placed the book down on the bedside table.

“You’re home late,” Jane remarked.

“Oh, you know Walter. A lunch date is never merely lunch with him.”

“So it spread into dinner, and then what?”

“You’re not honestly _jealous_ of Walter Mashburn, are you?”

Lisbon looked momentarily stunned with his insinuation. Vaguely, he noted that she had already shed herself of her jacket and shirt while downstairs. They were probably dumped on top of the laundry, ready to be washed whenever her next non-work day fell. But that was irrelevant, because Patrick Jane still felt uncomfortable. Walter Mashburn had spent far too long with Lisbon for his liking and yes, he was going to make his feelings clear about it. She moved towards him, almost predatorily. At least she didn’t appear to be furious with what he’d implied. But then, he’d never have said it at all if he couldn’t trust that she would know what he meant by it.

“No,” Jane replied hotly, albeit more than a little bit too quickly.

“Oh please, Jane,” Lisbon scoffed.

“Patrick,” he corrected her quickly, interrupting her as he did so.

“Patrick,” she echoed, for once not telling him off for correcting her. “Walter and I are just _friends._ There’s nothing going on between us.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” she said with a decisive nod as she crawled up the bed, inching painfully closer to his face. Once she had his cheeks cupped in his hand, Jane could feel his heart beating out a military tattoo. He knew what was coming next. “Because, if I really loved Walter Mashburn, would I come back home – and to bed – with you?”

Before he even had a chance to answer, she kissed him fiercely. He loved the feel of her fingers raking through his blond curls and naturally, his hands migrated to her back. Jane held her in close, refusing to let her move an inch. Besides, it was not like she even appeared to have any intentions of leaving him behind anyway. Instead, she was very much focused on kissing him, and making sure it was passionate too, and as far as Jane was concerned, that was absolutely the way it should be. Finally, there appeared to be some justice in the world. When she pulled away briefly, he watched with eager eyes as she slowly, teasingly peeled the camisole off of her body and discarded it on the floor.

Yes, he decided. He’d let her have this one. She definitely did have a point.

And then, he realized, he couldn’t leave her alone any longer. He had waited far, far too long for this. Instead, he pulled her back down for yet another fierce kiss, one that she was more than happy to give to him.

 _Mashburn, who?_ he thought, somewhat triumphantly.


End file.
